


partners in crime

by charlesleeray



Category: The Simpsons
Genre: BAMF Francesca Terwilliger, Bank Robbery, Bombs, F/M, How Do I Tag, I Didn’t Beta Read This, I Made Myself Cry, M/M, Organized Crime, Robbery, getting hurt, theyre assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesleeray/pseuds/charlesleeray
Summary: cecil terwilliger and his brother team up to rob a bank, but cecil brings along a friend.
Relationships: Cecil Terwilliger/Mr. Bergstrom, Sideshow Bob/Francesca Terwilliger
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	partners in crime

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE THEM

“I can’t believe I’m helping the both of you.”  
“It benefits both of us.”  
Cecil wrapped the wire around his arm, looking upwards at the floor. “I asked him to head for a more undramatic entrance, but my brother just can’t spare the theatrics, can he?”   
Bergstom stood at the small entrance of the bunker, a haphazard smile crawling across his face. “You know, in normal circumstances, I would never do this. It’s all too--”  
“Criminal?” Cecil interrupted.   
“Er. Yes.” Bergstrom peeled himself off the wall and walked towards him, an uneasy stumble in his step. “How do we know he’ll pull it off?”  
“Because he’s not alone this time.” Cecil grabbed a pair of pliers that sat near his feet and started to work on the bomb. As Bergstrom watched, he noticed that his hands were perfectly still. No sign of anxiety or worry-- they were almost like a statue.  
It disturbed him, but it was the lesser of evils, considering where they were.  
“Now, I knew Springfield had bunkers, but under their bank?”  
“These were built before the bank, I believe. They simply forgot that they were here-- and I’m not surprised that the lowlife criminals of this town haven’t used them to their full extent, especially considering they know about them.”  
In front of them, on the wall, was a crude graffiti drawing of what appeared to be a person, with the caption El Barto.  
“Hm. I like it, you know? Whoever drew this has a definite future in art-- it’s amazing.”  
“You think so?” Cecil threw the pliers down on the ground. “Perfect. We’re almost done. Just cross your fingers that my idiotic brother doesn’t mess this up.”  
Bergstrom shoved his hands in his pockets and crossed his fingers.   
“Now, come on.” Cecil grabbed a towel from his toolbox and wiped his hands, then threw it down. “In five minutes, this’ll explode. We don’t want to be in its blast range.”  
“Aren’t you going to take your toolbox?”  
“I can get another one. That one…” he shuddered. “It’s an old, dirty thing.” Cecil almost laughed, but they both went silent, the only noise between them the beeping of the bomb.

Then came the sound of footsteps, the jingling of keys and a belt. Cecil shot up hurriedly crouching over the bomb.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Sh! The timer, I’m setting it to one minute.”  
“You’re what?”  
The footsteps grew heavier. Cecil stumbled up and grabbed Bergstrom’s sleeve, then started to run. They jumped over the bomb, heading farther and farther from the exit.  
“Cecil! Where are we going?”  
“Somewhere,” he breathily replied. “There has to be another exit, they couldn’t possibly be that daft!”   
They turned a corner, both of them hitting their shoulders on the wall. Cecil was taken a little bit aback by this, causing Bergstrom to take the lead. They could hear the footsteps distance themself, running away from the bomb, and Cecil checked his watch.  
“We won’t be able to get there in time. Oh, and Robert most likely isn’t even there-”  
“We have thirty seconds,” Bergstrom stated, peering at Cecil’s watch. “I think we can make it.”  
“Are you crazy? We’ll be blown to bits!”  
Before he could protest, Bergstrom yanked his hand and sprinted.  
“You nutcase-- the coppers are waiting for us to crawl up! We have to--”  
“Jump, Cecil!”  
“Jump?”  
They both nearly avoided tripping over the dynamite. The clock started to count down from ten.  
“You go up first.”  
“I will gladly do so.” Cecil grabbed the rusty ladder and started to climb up, hoisting himself onto the dirty sidewalk and rolling over.  
Bergstrom came up next, but without warning, rolled directly on top of Cecil. He opened his mouth to tell him to piss off, but everything went white.

It was over in a flash.   
Cecil grabbed his ears, reeling back from the ringing that was like bringing a hammer down on his head. Dust and debris smacked him in the face, and with utter disgust, he wiped off his face.  
Blood. There was blood on his hands.   
Bergstrom grabbed Cecil’s bloody hand and pulled him up, then grabbed his side. “You okay?”  
“Me? There’s a chunk of metal in your side, Bergstrom!”   
“What?” He looked at the side of his stomach and gagged- Cecil was right. There was a piece of shrapnel lodged in his side.  
“Get in the car,” he muttered. “The backseat, you idiot!”  
Cecil got in next to him, grabbing a first-aid kit from the front. Bergstrom swallowed heavily, and Cecil noted that he looked extremely pale.   
“What-- What’re you going to do? Put a bandaid on my-- put a bandaid on my stomach?”  
“You’re as bad as my brother.” Cecil had a nervous smile on his face, grabbing scissors from the box. “Alright. Don’t move or touch anything. I think I can handle this.”  
He cut into Bergstrom’s shirt, assessing the damage. It wasn’t deep, thankfully, and nowhere near any vital organs or breakable bones.   
“Oh, jeez. I think I might pass out.”   
“Don’t,” Cecil muttered, grabbing a needle out of the kit. “Great. You’ve gotten blood on my good leather seats.”  
Bergstrom watched a police car swerve into the parking lot and turned his attention back to himself.  
“Here. If you want to distract yourself from the pain that’ll come from removing a huge piece of what looks like metal, bite down on this roll of gauze. Or not.”  
As soon as the gauze was in his mouth, Cecil took a deep breath and pulled the metal out, throwing it in the front. Bergstrom slammed his head on the seat in pain, the gauze falling out of his mouth.  
“Well, that was easy.”  
“Was- was it, Cecil?”  
He got to work quickly, using the gauze to stop the blood that mostly covered his seats. During this, Bergstrom grabbed his hand and cussed under his breath.   
He was in the middle of stitching the wound up when the front doors opened.   
Robert threw a comically large sack of money in the back, hitting the both of them in the leg. He didn’t look back, but when Francesca jumped in the passenger seat and closed the door, she eyed the bloody piece of scrap metal.  
“What did you two do? The bomb goes off four minutes before it’s supposed to--”  
“Police,” Bergstrom moaned, flinching ever so slightly as the needle pierced his skin.   
“I don’t think I need to ask about the wound,” she said, taking a sharp breath.  
“Wound?” Robert asked. “Cecil, you--”  
“Idiot! Yes, we know, but I gave you both ample time to get the money! Now, stop driving so damned fast, Robert-- you’re going to kill us!”  
Soon enough, Cecil finished the stitches. A few were skewed and misplaced on account of some speed bumps, but they could fix it when they got back home.  
“We got it!” Francesca shouted. “We got it!”  
“How much is in there?”  
They both grew silent.  
“About… maybe… Robert, did you count?”  
“Me? Of course I did! There’s about two million in that bag right now.”  
Cecil picked it up. “Oh? Doesn’t feel like two million.”  
“You…” He stepped on the brake, making Cecil fly into the headrest. Francesca laughed loudly, and Bergstrom gave out a small chuckle. He cleared his throat, too, and the three’s eyes went on him.  
“Oh. I, um-- well, Cecil, thank you for stitching me up.” He rubbed his eyes. “I feel like this was a good insight into your lives. Definitely a good teaching story.”

Without realizing it, Cecil smiled.   
“Well, you're welcome. When we go ahead and rob another bank, I’ll make sure to invite you.”  
Bergstrom smiled, and Cecil realized they never stopped holding hands.


End file.
